


Raise a Little Hell

by manic_intent



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse)
Genre: Alpha!Cable, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omegaverse, That Omegaverse Postcanon AU where Wade decides he sort of wants to kill Cable, just because, kind of, omega!Wade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 10:24:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14892848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: Cable was quite possibly the alpha-est alpha who’d ever alpha’d. On hindsight, it was probably why Wade had committed so much of his personal funds towards murdering him off the face of the planet. Protect the kid, sure, but hiring on Peter-and-friends to do a job that Wade had almost managed by himself when unarmed and dying of cancer was overkill. Cool, but a bit much. Kind of like deep-fried french toast.“It’s not an omega thing,” Wade said, as he quietly screwed the suppressor onto a custom MK12 rifle.“Yeah right.” Russell didn’t sound convinced over the phone. “Yukio said maybe you should get therapy.”





	Raise a Little Hell

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Tiếng Việt available: [Địa Ngục Gọi Tên](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14936925) by [thegirl_gcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirl_gcat/pseuds/thegirl_gcat)



> Obligatory Omegaverse fic.

Cable was quite possibly the alpha-est alpha who’d ever alpha’d. On hindsight, it was probably why Wade had committed so much of his personal funds towards murdering him off the face of the planet. Protect the kid, sure, but hiring on Peter-and-friends to do a job that Wade had almost managed by himself when unarmed and dying of cancer was overkill. Cool, but a bit much. Kind of like deep-fried french toast. 

“It’s not an omega thing,” Wade said, as he quietly screwed the suppressor onto a custom MK12 rifle. 

“Yeah right.” Russell didn’t sound convinced over the phone. “Yukio said maybe you should get therapy.” 

“Tried that. Was kinda funny for a while.” Wade settled the bipod on the edge of the roof and sighted down the scope. From this angle he had a good view through the apartment window, right into its sparsely decorated living room. Little over half a klick. Easy shot for Wade, even if he usually preferred to get up close and personal with his pistols. 

“And? What happened?” 

“Think the therapist decided to quit their job and become a dogwalker. And they moved interstate.” 

“…O-kay… so… it’s a nice day, isn’t it?” Russell said, trying to sound upbeat. 

“It’s probably about to get better.” A pigeon landed hopefully close by, cooing as it peered at Wade from the edge of the roof. 

“That a pigeon? Are you feeding birds in the park or something?”

“Nope.”

“You’re. Trying to kill Cable again, ain’tcha.” Russell inhaled sharply. “Wade, you really have to get this out of your system aye.”

“I know. Pretty sure I’m about to, in T-minus five minutes.” Wade settled the stock of his rifle against his shoulder and settled down to wait. 

“C’mon, what the hell? Cable stopped trying to kill me after the weird teddy bear change stuff. He even saved your life?” Moving to the X-Mansion had sadly infected Russell with bleeding hearts syndrome, despite Wade’s best efforts to stem the tide.

“Yup. I’m not doing this for you. Doing this for me, for the spirit of Jeebus, tabby kittens, and carne seca chimichangas. I would do anything for a carne seca chimichanga.” Wade reverently crossed himself.

“…Have you been listening to Dopinder’s self-help thing again?” Russell asked, suspicious. 

“I set those on fire last week,” Wade said. Nothing in the living room yet, though Wade could see the Awesome Gun resting in its wall bracket from here. “I didn’t know they still made stuff in _CDs_. I told him he could thank me later for welcoming him to 2018.” 

“I’m pretty sure you’re going to regret this.”

“Pretty sure I won’t.” 

“What happened to ‘only best friends execute pedophiles together’?” 

Someone had snitched. Maybe the Angry Goth Girl. Had she been on scene at that point? Wade had been too busy at the time to notice. “It was figurative. Metaphorical. Phantasmagorical. One of those.” 

“And you’re sure this isn’t an ‘omega thing’. Speaking from one omega to another.” 

“Pretty fucking sure,” Wade said, because he’d never had this worming-under-the-skin feeling before from any alpha. Hell, the Canadian Special Forces had lots of alphas. Hadn’t mattered, especially after the rest had seen what Wade was capable of. “Why? You okay in the X-Mansion? Yukio said she’d look out for you.” 

“Nah, I’m good. Been learning a lot. Working things out. Professor even brought in a therapist. For me an’ the other kids.” 

That gave Wade pause. “A plot development about professional help for mental health and trauma? In a filmverse continuity? That therapist is probably an evil alien from a parallel universe.” 

“Pretty sure she’s not.” 

“Pretty sure she’s going to kidnap all of you and sell your organs.” Wade sighted down the scope again. “Too dark for Marvel? Kidnap all of you and clone you and use your clones to take over the world.” 

There was a muffled conversation in the background behind Russell. “Hey, I got to go. Class is starting. Can you maybe get a life? Go walk in a park. Eat a hotdog.” 

“I’m not taking any life advice from someone who’s unironically into bubblegum pop music.” 

Russell snorted. “Fuck you, old man.” 

“We’ve got to work on your insults, padawan.” Wade grinned as Russell muttered something and hung up. He slowed down his breathing, waiting. Good light. Wade knew Cable’s routine by now. If Cable was home, this was around the time when he woke up and turned on the TV to catch the morning news. And Wade knew Cable was home, in the weird itchy under-the-skin way that had gotten to him the moment he’d first tried his level best to murder Cable in the prison. 

There. Movement in the shadows. Cable was circling around to the couch, yawning and scratching the back of his head. As Wade let out a soft hum of satisfaction and trained the reticule on Cable’s skull, Cable turned and looked right at him. 

Oops. Busted. Cable waved, smirking. Wade considered pulling the trigger anyway, because shooting things with a high-powered rifle always gave him a sort of visceral sexual thrill, but it was probably going to be a waste of a bullet. With a sigh, he pulled the rifle off the edge and started to disassemble it. 

His phone buzzed. Unknown number. Wade answered and put the phone on speaker. “Wade Wilson.” 

“Aren’t you gonna give up?” Cable asked. 

“How’d you get this number?”

“Your number’s listed on the books at Sister Margaret’s, jackass.” 

“The consequences of capitalism,” Wade said sadly. He packed down the rifle and picked up his phone, jogging over to the roof entry. “How’d you pick me out anyway? Professional curiosity.” 

“I’m a soldier, dipshit, and you’ve been trying to kill me for fucking _weeks_.” 

“That’s not very helpful,” Wade said. “Is it your future tech computer or something?” 

“Fuck off. The hell are you trying to kill me anyway? What did I do? I’ve already apologised to Russell. Did you pick up a contract with my name on it?” 

“Why aren’t you trying to kill me back?” Wade asked hopefully. This might maybe be a lot easier of Cable actually made an effort to engage in another CG-heavy fight scene, plus or minus the Juggernaut. 

“You first. Why are you trying to kill me?” 

Wade let himself quietly into the stairwell. “No reception now, bye!”

“Wade, Jesus—” 

Wade hung up and tucked the phone away. Back to the drawing board. Once home, he dropped the duffel bag of weapons on the couch and advanced on the large whiteboard he’d propped up against the wall. Wade drew a thick red line through ’Long Range Shot?’, frowned, and wrote ‘Longererer Range????” over it instead. Surely Cable’s personal computer or whatever it was had a maximum perimeter. 

His phone buzzed. A text.

 **Yukio** : u ok? (。･∀･)ﾉ  
**Wade** : yes y  
**Yukio** : checking ﾟ*｡(･∀･)ﾟ*｡  
**Wade** : need new plan b  
**Yukio** : mayb u 2 should talk ^.~  
**Wade** : we r  
**Wade** : with guns  
**Yukio** : (￣ー￣；  
**Wade** : stop texting in class  
**Wade** : mr limited field of vision will b pissed  
**Wade** : if he sees u  
**Wade** : big if  
**Yukio** : scott is a nice guy orz  
**Wade** : can he see that tho ;)  
**Yukio** : （;￣ー￣A

As Wade typed out an answer, his phone rang. Cable again. Wade hung up, blocked the number, and turned back to the whiteboard. Maybe he should take a job. There was nothing like some applied mayhem to jog his creativity.

#

Wade liked taking jobs south of the border, even if the burritos in Mexico weren’t deep fried. Wade sat out of the sun in the yellow drive-thru in Juarez, feet up on another seat as he set down his small pile of foil-wrapped burritos and a beer. As he unwrapped the first, Cable sat down opposite him on the table.

“Fuck’s sake,” Wade said. 

“Not here to fight. Put the gun down.” 

Ten minutes later, as even the restaurant staff fled screaming, Wade grumpily sat back down on one of the few remaining intact chairs. At least two of the burritos were still intact. He unwrapped one as Cable sat down again with a couple of beers from the fridge. Pork asado. Wade tipped up his mask and hesitated as Cable pushed a beer over. Eyeing it suspiciously, Wade asked, “So how did you find me?” 

“Heard you took a job in Juarez. Followed the mayhem.” 

“Weasel’s gone and Dopinder’s running the bar.” Wade wrinkled his nose. “Didn’t peg him for a snitch.” 

“He didn’t. Not verbally. Read his mind.” 

“You’re a fucking telepath.”

“Yeah.” 

“So that’s why.” Telepathy was life on cheat mode. Wade ate, sulking. “What’s your range?” 

Cable looked amused again. “Not telling you that, asshole. It’s also why I haven’t seriously tried to retaliate. I can sense you don’t actually want to kill me.” 

“I just emptied my remaining magazines on you a few minutes ago. Does attempted murder count as a polite greeting in the future?” Huh. Maybe the future was more fun than Wade thought. 

“You knew I’d block those. I’ve fought you when you were genuinely out for my blood. So yes. I can fucking tell when there’s a difference. So what’s the deal? Is it a contract?” 

“It’s a new hobby,” Wade conceded. “I kinda thought about taking up pilates or yoga or knitting but this was more cinematic.” He scrunched down the first burrito and took a swig of the beer as Cable drank and studied him. 

“You get under my skin,” Cable said, as Wade was unwrapping the second burrito. 

Wade frowned at him. “Pretty sure you can’t read my mind. Or did they change that for this continuity?” 

“Didn’t say I did. Why’d you think I did?” When Wade only tensed up, Cable exhaled. rubbing his palm slowly over his face. “Is this because I’m an alpha?” 

“Uh, no? No, why?”

“I don’t need telepathy to know that you’re lying. What did I do?” Cable asked. He looked solemn. When Wade started to eat instead of answering, Cable glanced away at the bullet-pocked wall of the drive-thru. “Look. In the future, just about everyone you meet is a beta. Mutant gene died out, even on a latent level. That’s what they figured was causing people to have aspects.” 

“So betas are complete normies?” 

“Yeah. No latent mutant gene, not a carrier. Think that hasn’t been figured out yet in the timeline. Once they do, that’s the start of the end for the gene. They find a way to edit it out of the general population.” Cable drained his beer and set it aside. “My point is. The only people I knew personally who weren’t betas were my half-sister and my daughter. So. What did I do to piss you off?” 

“You just do. Not really even. You’re like an itchy product care tag inside a t-shirt. Like one of those dry tickly coughs that won’t go away no matter how much you try to nuke it with meds. Like randomly losing a wifi connection.” Wade finished the burrito and washed it down with beer. 

“Huh,” Cable said. He got up. Went to fetch another couple of beers. Came back and sat down again. “That normal for you?” he asked, pushing over one of the bottles. 

“I do sometimes dislike people on sight,” Wade confessed, “like Adam Sandler. What even is up with that guy’s face?” Ugh. Wade had once nearly opened fire on the TV when Punch-Drunk Love had come on, but Al had tackled him from across the couch. 

“You killed whoever that is yet?”

“Nope. I’m a mercenary. Killing people for free is a bad business policy.” 

“So it’s a contract. On me.” 

“Didn’t say that.” 

Cable frowned, saying nothing. They finished their second beers in a weird sort of cease-fire. Wade answered texts from Yukio and Russell and tried to ignore how Cable was staring at him, until the beer was gone and Wade was bored. As he got to his feet, Cable followed suit. Walked closer until he was bracketing Wade against the wall. 

Wade pressed the muzzle of his pistol to Cable’s gut. “What happens if I shoot you this close? Would your fancy shield still work?” 

“You’re out of bullets.” 

“Got a knife.”

“Use it then.” Cable leaned in. He was breathing slowly, warm against Wade’s throat even through the costume. The itchy tickly feeling worsened. Made Wade twitchy. He pushed his gun hard enough against Cable’s skin that he knew he’d bruise the impression of the muzzle into his flesh, but Cable didn’t let up. Didn’t touch Wade either. He let out a low rumbling sound instead, an alpha’s satisfied purr. The tickly feeling eased. Wade let out a shaky breath. He wanted to breathe Cable in. Get closer. Rub a palm down over his own cock, get fingers up into the achy moist warmth between his thighs. 

“I can smell you,” Cable said, his voice husky. “That what all this has been about?”

“Smell _this_ ,” Wade shot back. Not his best rejoinder, fine, but Cable still yelped and doubled over when Wade kneed him smartly in the balls and ducked out of reach. When he stalked off to the road to hail a taxi, Cable didn’t follow.

#

Cable apparently took getting kneed in the balls as an overture of friendship. Maybe the future was weird that way. Since he brought chimichangas from the corner shop that Wade liked _and_ a slab of beer, Wade was slightly less inclined to try stabbing Cable repeatedly in the doorway.

Maybe after the chimichangas. 

Cable looked curiously around Wade’s apartment as Wade cleared the junk off the coffee table by dumping it on the floor. Shaking his head, Cable picked up the trash and binned it. He went into the kitchen, sighed, and started shifting the dishes from the sink into the dishwasher. “You are seriously not a functional adult,” Cable said. 

“Society conspires to forgive that in guys,” Wade said, even as Al poked her head cautiously out of her room. 

“Who’s that?” Al asked. 

“Santa Claus. Have a chimichanga,” Wade said. 

Al turned her head in his direction, then over towards the kitchen. “Hey,” Cable said. 

“Oh. Your child-killer friend,” Al said.

“Not a friend,” Wade told her, even as Cable said, “Said I was sorry for that.” 

“If he’s clearing up the dishes, I like him already.” Al settled down on the couch and accepted a foil-wrapped chimichanga. 

“You’re that easily bribed? I’m disappointed,” Wade said. 

“You need friends anyway.” Al unwrapped her chimichanga and took a bite. 

“Hey, I have friends!” 

“You need more friends your age,” Al said, patting Wade’s knee. “Maybe it’d stop you from being such a dickwad all the time.” 

There was a snort of amusement from the kitchen, but Cable made no other comment. “Not friends,” Wade said firmly. “I’ve been trying to kill him. Notice the big research board over there? Research boards are Hollywood signposting for Only Seriousmode Business Here.” 

“You’ve never taken this long to try to kill someone before. Maybe it’s just your inability to process a genuine wish to connect with another human being. In a mature way. Given that you’re an overgrown hyperviolent manchild,” Al said. 

“I am totally mature. This story is rated M. For Mature. Which means me,” Wade said, scowling. Cable started to laugh. “Fuck you and the chimichangas you brought in,” Wade told him, though he started to unwrap one. Breathed in the greasy meaty cheesy smell reverently. “Dayum.”

“Who’s easily bribed?” Al said, grinning. 

“I’m going to put laxatives in your vitamins,” Wade muttered.

#

Wade had seen Cable’s apartment before: he’d broken in once to set some traps. He’d kinda assumed Cable had just disabled those, given no one had died or been injured in an amusing manner. As such, Wade was mildly surprised when he nearly walked into the tripwire by the door. The nail gun was still taped behind the kitchen counter. Wade stepped over the tripwire and inspected the other rooms. The only trap that had been disarmed and disassembled was the explosive wired to the toilet seat. The explosive in question had been left in several neat pieces in a large tupperware box under the Awesome Gun.

Weird. Or maybe just lazy. Wade flopped down sideways on the bed with his legs dangling off the edge and checked his phone. Cable was usually out buying groceries at this point in the day. He’d be back soon. From this angle, Wade would have a clean shot at the front door. He drew a pistol, did a twirl, and holstered it again. Let out a sigh. 

“It’s really not fun trying to kill someone when they kinda just take it in their stride,” Wade complained later, when Cable let himself through the door. 

Cable stared at him only for a heartbeat before shaking his head and stepping over the tripwire. He set the groceries down on the kitchen counter. “You get used to it.”

“Is that what the future is like? A napalm strike for ‘Hello, would you like to come over for dinner?’ A few friendly stabs in the stomach as ‘I hope you have a nice day?’” Wade might be down with that. 

Cable cracked a thin smile as he sorted stuff into the fridge. “Nah.” 

“People don’t take attempted murder seriously anymore?” 

“That’s not it.” 

“So are you just that lonely, or am I special?” 

This got Wade a brief, assessing glance from the kitchen. “Doesn’t make sense for a telepath to be lonely.” Cable closed the fridge, stacked cans on the cabinet, and folded the reusable grocery bags. “There’s no ‘man is an island’ shit if you’re a telepath. Even if you try to wall yourself off. But I think being able to hear everyone, all the time, makes you _more_ lonely. Puts you on the outside.” Cable walked over, his posture relaxed and unthreatening. He propped a shoulder against the doorframe and folded his arms, looking Wade slowly over. “And. Yeah. You’re special.” 

Wade was getting that twitchy feeling again. He closed his hands over his guns but didn’t draw them, his gloved fingertips tapping against the holsters. “Al said that if you’re going to come over every week to do the dishes, you might as well do the vacuuming too.” 

Cable huffed. “I seriously don’t know how the two of you can stand living like that.” 

“She wipes things now and then,” Wade said vaguely, having never been one to understand the point of housework. Places got dirty. It was what places _did_. Cleaning it up just gave dirt an invitation to try harder next time. “She also said we should stop spreading pheromones everywhere and ‘work shit out’. Her words.” 

“She’s a real treasure.” Cable didn’t move from the door. “That why you’re here?” 

“Why didn’t you disarm all the traps?” 

Cable took a step into the room. When Wade didn’t react, he took another, until he was braced over Wade on the bed, his breathing deepening. Cable had a knee pressed over the edge of the bed by Wade’s hips. He nudged his mouth close to Wade’s throat, scenting him again. “Got used to them,” Cable said, his breath warm against Wade’s jaw, through his mask. “Same way I got used to you watching me. Coming through my place. Getting your scent all over my things.” 

“Maybe I’m not the only one who’s fucked up around here,” Wade said, fascinated. 

“Everyone’s fucked up. Take it from a telepath.” Cable nudged his thumbs against Wade’s mask, over the collar against his throat. “Why the fuck do you even wear this? A fucking _collar_.” His voice was getting husky again as he untucked Wade’s mask, rolling it up his throat to bare skin. When he got the mask over Wade’s mouth, Wade slipped his hands up over Cable’s shoulders and kneed him in the stomach. 

“Ow, what the _fuck_ —” Cable folded up. Wade twisted them over, the bed groaning under their weight. Cable glared up at him, flushed, but he didn’t punch back. He was tempted to, though. Wade could see the signs. 

“Thought I wanted to kill you,” Wade told him. “Maybe not. It was fun at the start? Now I don’t know. I still sort of want to hurt you.” Twitchy feeling. Uneven now. Wade clenched and unclenched gloved fingers. He could get Cable across the face from here, break his nose, fracture that jaw. Dig his fingertips into the seam between flesh and cybernetics and pull. Rub the wet seam between his legs against Cable’s belly, against the swelling bulge in his jeans. 

“Do it,” Cable said, his hands rubbing up and down Wade’s thighs. “See if you can hurt me and make it count.” 

“Probably not a good thing to say to a heavily armed merc with a light trigger finger,” Wade said. 

Cable laughed. Wade could feel Cable’s amusement shake through his powerful frame, and he pressed his knees to it, to Cable’s ribs. He had a good angle from here for a knife. Down and up through the ribcage. Wade rubbed the heel of his palm against the right spot and watched Cable’s bionic eye flare as he understood. The laughter died, replaced by an uneven challenging smirk that Wade preferred. Violence, that was what Wade understood. Wade bent, scraping his teeth against the steel segments corded against Cable’s throat. 

Wade bit down over Cable’s pulse, clenched his hands tight over his khaki shirt. Cable hauled him up for a kiss and kept at it even as Wade bit him, grinding lust and violence together. Cable pulled off Wade’s mask and tossed it off the bed. The blades were next, then his holsters. Evening the field. “Fuck all these _fucking_ straps,” Cable kept hissing against Wade’s shoulders as Wade laughed and left him to it and bit marks down Cable’s shoulders that would stay, reddened crescents over skin being eaten away by an impossible disease. Once Wade was naked Cable pressed greedy fingers into the wet seam behind his balls, made a hoarse yowling moan as Wade ground down and ran his tongue over the shoulder plate that arched over Cable’s bicep. 

No bionic cock—that was disappointing. Maybe Cable sensed that: his face twisted in irritation as Wade laughed and wriggled free and sat down, taking in the stretch, arching against it. “Condoms, you fucking maniac,” Cable gasped, his hips twitching up against Wade. 

“Not in heat. Not going to be a problem.” Wade eyed Cable curiously, balanced over his lap. “Unless your metal virus thingy is an STD?” Huh. That might be cool. 

“You did _not_ just… did you just get more turned on by the thought of…” Cable clapped his palm over his face. “Jesus. And no. Fuck.” 

“Baby, everything about you turns me on,” Wade confessed, digging his nails into the unyielding cords that ran down from Cable’s elbow. 

“Somehow that’s mutual,” Cable said, and flipped them over, hauling Wade’s thighs up around his waist. 

Cable bent Wade in two as he leaned down for a kiss, growling as Wade scoured his lip for it, scratching fingertips against the shaved back of Cable’s skull. Then Cable got to work. Something creaked dangerously beneath Wade’s spine, holsters clattering to the floor as the bed hit the wall in angry thumps. Wade had Cable pay for every inch of pleasure that he gave or took. 

This wasn’t like it had been with Ness and never would be. He’d been pretending with her, in many ways. Trying to be better. With Cable, Wade was just the way he was and Cable was answering his venomous lust with an equally vicious hunger. Cable fucked him through his first orgasm with his big hand closed tightly over Wade’s cock, then the second with his fingers wedged between Wade’s thighs, rubbing against the folds stretched tight over Cable’s cock. When he knotted Wade it was with Wade shoved head-down on the bed and held in place, Cable’s teeth buried in the meat of his throat. 

“Pretty good,” Wade decided, as they waited for Cable’s knot to go down. Cable grumbled something, pressed loosely against Wade’s back, his changeling arm slung over Wade’s waist. “Still sort of want to stab you.” Or fuck him. Or both. The twitchy feeling was tuned to a low buzz from satiation, but it was still there. 

Cable chuckled, his breath warm over Wade’s shoulders. He didn’t sound like he cared. “Keeps things interesting,” he said, and bit Wade again on the back of his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: manic_intent  
> tumblr: manic-intent.tumblr.com  
> \--  
> Refs:  
> https://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/features/2017/04/waiting-violent-city-tourism-170410112003288.html
> 
> Reminder: pls don't use the 3-letter abbreviation of alpha/beta/omega without dashes if you can! or just avoid it and use Omegaverse. :) https://www.perthnow.com.au/news/abo-is-not-just-an-abbreviation-of-aboriginal-ng-4ddb57fe9fac0137c39f9d0b9bbb1d9f


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